


Hand Around the Kobra

by Pentaphobe



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentaphobe/pseuds/Pentaphobe
Summary: In an alternate time when the Infinity Stones were not the target of Thanos' madness, not yet; lies adventures of one who bewitched him in her skill, left him wanting and how does Thanos deal with wanting? .. By conquering.





	1. Olive Branch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a mini-series that I was going to do before tumblr got nuked during my shitty writer's block episode. So, here is this. It'll be little chapters here and there of about a character of mine, named Xy'mara paired with Thanos because everyone needs that purple ddy dik in their life. Formatting is strange, be a little lenient with me, it's one of the few ways I'm getting any sort of writing out.

There is blood dripping from her hand.

The apothecary has come with poultice and medicinal pastes for treatment of the lacerations that have lashed her skin. Not that she coherent to protest the sting of them against her coppertone skin. She was still in a daze from her battle.

Usually Xy'mara fought an excess of creatures at the whim of her masters, but none ever so blatantly disrespected her; giving tugs on her tendrils, spit at her feet, disregarded her skill. It is why their heads rolled in the sands of the gladiatorial arena when she would finally succumb to the fit of her rage.

This, of course, came at the cost of her left arm’s function after losing her gauntlets; she had used her plain arm as a shield against oncoming attacks. Feral beasts as always found it was the opportune moment to take flesh before they fell. This night was no different. Luckily, only the opposing Master’s war-dogs came for her when she finished butchering the warrior that had been her opponent. 

All that there was to do for the evening was rest, as per the apothecary's request. She would obey it for now, too subdued at the thought of her deeds.

She did not often kill.

There was doubt anyone would challenge her again, at least in this regard. The woman that faced her blade was a fine example of what was to come to those who did not give a soldier of the Ka'tir their proper respects.

No one would dare try Xy'mara, the Kobra, that night. Not after her bloody performance.

**▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂**

At the celebratory feast, she lingered in the background. A fixture of silence while she ambled with a drink in hand.

Xy'mara wore a white tunic and skirt, a short blade at her hip, with ornate brown and gold frills for a sash that wrapped around her head and covered her arm holstered in a sling. It complimented her rosy coppertone complexion and obscured her head-tendrils, though those with their tapering mid-length fell at the sides of her head, curling at their ends in their spot on the top of her cleavage.

It was a tedious task to attend these things. For once, Xy'mara wanted nothing more than to wander off to the darkness of her chambers, lay with the cushions beneath her back with her hands folded comfortably under the weight of her bosom so she could pray.

However, that was not to be. The masters must show off their bag. Customary, as it were.

Xy'mara found comfort in the feast.

Tending to her appetite, she paid little attention to the aristocrats that visited themselves upon the warriors. It was not outside of the realm for the fierce warriors to be chosen by spectators for a more .. closer look. Xy'mara herself, too defiant, yet she knew battle brothers and sisters who had faced the call of such duties, whether by choice or the whims of their masters.

She was not one of them.

Instead, she observed from afar. Only to turn back to the food as fanfare began with investors’ arrival. Usually, she did not have to face them. This was different.

One of the Ludsi, a master of the finances for the estate she served, called her over to meet an odd creature with oblong face, long limbs, greyish-colored skin, fitted with leathers and other wears. He made no movements with his legs, just gliding across the floors by whatever means allowed him.

He greeted her with severe formality. His name was Maw, Ebony Maw. Beady, insect-like eye narrowing in on her with interest, like she were a task or project for inspection. “You are a fine warrior.”

Xy’ folded her lips around the rim of the curvy glass in her hand, “Thank you.”

“You’ve collected a significant amount of patronage for the Master; he wishes to send you his regards.”

Her gemstone brows lifted, “The Master?”

 “Yes,” He nodded with a small bow of his head, his fingers pressed against one another. “A collector, he’s found some entertainment in the betting games. He bet a hefty hand on your bout, developed a fondness for the game now he has.”

“Well, I suppose.. You can send my acknowledgement. It is the duty of a gladiator, after all.”

“Indeed. However--he would like you to give them yourself. He wishes for you to take audience with him, offer a proposition if you will.”

Xy'mara tilted her head apologetically, “Beyond the walls of my Ludus, exploration is forbidden.”

“Your Ludsi has just informed me you’d be permission for such an occasion. The circumstance now only demands your cooperation.”

Xy’ let her single good eye dance over the man, then her own Ludus, who looked on sheepishly.

Their relationship was an amiable one, believed of treating her with the old ways instead of the chattel agreement that frequented this planet. She was grateful; still, she was at his servitude. No matter what he believed was correct of her lineage.

She turned, giving a brief once over from head to toe – or rather, where the hem of the odd alien’s skirt stopped. His arrogance made the downward turn of her lips deepen. She shook her head.

“Tell your master, I’m not a dog.. A proposition is usually offered on equal footing, face to face. He may find me here, if need be.”

Before she allowed him to retort, she bowed her head to the crimson skinned man beside her, “Ludus,” before offering a similar one to the strange man and then, taking her leave. She would not give him a glance back.

It absolve her the opportunity to hear the mutter from the lanky individual, his face grim and dark. “No one, is on equal footings with the Master..”

**▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂**

Weeks pass and she felt herself under constant attention. She felt watched, and very much exposed. At some point, she anticipated an attack, but nothing of the sort came.

Just watching, always watching.

She had ignored the advances of the man, Maw, yet again, requesting her to have audience with his Dark Master and to see her abide by the terms that were given. She would not. When he was not glaring at her over the refusal, he frequently visited to engage her Ludus. The Masters of her division seeming to have kindle a sort of rapport with the odd, alien-man. It made her uneasy, especially when she knew nothing of him or his Dark Master. It was a task to find anything on either of them. The company that they kept was no help. Even so, she had a ways around this.

On the day of her leisure, she spectated the battle sports by her Ludus’ side. The purpose that was stated for such a waste of time was to scout her competition, when in truth is the Ludsi favored Xy’mara’s skills as protection than solely their guards. It was not outside of thought that other competing Masters would send their warriors to assassinate others for absorptions of estates and schools. After all, her Ludus of finance, Ahman, trusted her with his life. However, she was quiet and content under the shield against the Rohdinian sun. There was other things she could do while here. Around the third match, she peered about, looking for the Rohdinian children that frequented the stalls. Xy’mara gave a three-toned whistle; her good eye glanced over to guards seeing four small bodies weave around their legs, startling them.

Chuckling, she waves the guards to a standstill so the orphaned children circled around her feet. “Ani'ids..”  _Small ones._

“You lookin’ for somethin’?” “Got somethin’ you need, Kobra?” “I was here the other day, when you had your bout with the Cuuldilin, you were so cool!”

Xy'mara shook her head at the smallest of them, making sure her good eye met each one of theirs.

“Yes, actually. There is something that I wanted to ask.”

A bit bribery with food and twenty coin-credits to split between the four of them, she gained the young boys’ attention. Using the moment while they were stationary to learn a great deal about this Master of Ebony Maw.

The man was one of mystery, where he came from, many were uncertain and even few expected to know the truth. His arrival was inconspicuous one, shrouded in the fact that he slide into the gladiatorial prospects without notice. He was a silent dealer that came and went with the passing merchants. In his arrival, a group of dangerous men and women called The Black Order accompanied him; lethal warriors from across the galaxy that guarded him like he was a messiah. Thanos, he was called, and the Black Order were his children.

Two of them joined the gladiatorial arena and were making a name for themselves cutting down gladiators left and right. Never for any coin, but for amusement, relishing the art of battle. Amidst this, this Thanos was an apparent fan of her craft. Any time that she was attendance for a match, he was there. Watching.

It was a surprise she had not seen him, according to the pearl-boy that piped up finally when his belly was full.

The conversation was finally came to a head when the battle in the pits caught her attention. Her eye turned to Jaunuus, a Khodar’Khan that mastered the eklectosword; he was pitted against a Megaptor, one that was impossibly large for the arena at its current size. It was becoming irate, turned its attention on the patrons. Even started to climb the walls, as certain patrons began to scatter and others foolishly began pull weapons or lob their treats at the beast. Xy’m pushed up from the stretched duvet as the screams began to tear through the arena. Her head-tendrils curl with anticipation as she stood. Instinctually, she pushed the boys behind her, who needed no encouragement in clinging to the woman’s leg for safety.

The beast has begun to clamor the stairs and there is blood of all shades beginning to spill.

“Run!”

Her Ludus, already being escorted out of through the stone caverns, called to her when she heard a scream tear from a woman. The woman was a Rohdinian human clamoring to get beyond the seating walls. The Megaptor pushed its four-legged form of blubber and enforced muscle into the small passage that was to exit the arena, getting its large, bloated hip joints stuck, but still using its reach to take swipes at the woman.

She was carrying a little girl.

Without a passing thought, Xy’mara whipped herself into action and swiped large, spear-weapon from one of the guards. The Ka’tir warrior turned sharply on her padded toes, hopping onto the overseeing ledge of the arena to escape the traffic of running bodies. She ignored the cry from one of the Master’s yet sheltered.

Her toned legs pumped, sending her like a rocket towards the assaulted entrance and her good eye trained on the claw marks that raked the walls. She ran down the beast, joined by others capable of helping but the Megaptor seemed hell bent on chasing the woman.

The poor woman clutched her daughter as she darted through the streets. Only to come face to face with a wall of stone when she tried to weave into an alleyway and cut to the adjacent market. There was not a moment to reflect on her life when she heard the roar of the terrible beast behind her. Using her body, she shielded her child, awaiting the blows of the Megaptor.

Except, it did not come.

Instead, an alarmed yelp came from the creature. A ghastly squeal followed when it was pulled by its fat, triangular tail and tossed back into street.

The assailant was a man, standing stoic in the face of the beast. The roar that tore from the creature’s throat when it whipped back around to face the ashen cobalt skinned man, who stood unbothered. The horrendous sound was cut off into a gargle, as from above—like some sort of a coppertoned hawk, Xy’mara came crashing down with the spear, piercing through the top of the Megaptor’s skull. A sharp twist of her arms and the beast slumped with a throaty warble.

She slide off the beast’s head with a grunt, wrenching the long apparatus’ blade free. Her breath heavy, and yet it was caught when she finally gave pause to make note of the .. man. He was tall, so very much so.. Tall enough to dwarf her and Xy'mara stood a solid six foot, even. Not only was he tall, but he was incredibly broad and made with rigid lines of muscularity. Harsh topology mapped the top of his back and shoulders, barely contained in the metal-enforced leather. His complexion of purpled cobalt, compliment to the icy blue pearls he had for eyes.

They were expressive, those eyes, where his face fell stoic and grim. They traced the length of her, an open appraisal that made a flush of heat race up her spine.

Even so, she stood firm. “Are you alright?”

Those crystalline eyes watched her for a moment longer, not intending to answer her question, but he did speak.

"So, we finally meet.” His voice is an oakish thrum, deep and resonating.

Adjusting the spear in her hand with a roll of her wrist, Xy’mara plants the blunt end of the spear down. “.. Should I know you?” Her head tilts off to the side curiously.

His lips pulled into a half-smile, taking a step closer. The mass of him eclipsing the Rohdinian sun from her eyes. “I’d hope we’d meet over more amiable circumstances.”

Her brow ridges furrowed for a moment, and she has to question, but it comes to her almost immediately. The voice of the boys, describing him.

“Thanos.” That thick, immense chest seemed to swell with the sound of her saying his name.

“Yes, little one.”

Her words were caught before she could ask, by her own throat and by the arrival of the mother with her child at her hip. She is clasping both her and the man’s hands, her forehead pressed to it in gesture of great thanks. But, her eyes wandered back to this Thanos.

A placid expression greeting both the Rohdinian woman and her child. Her mind raced without pass. Who was he? What did he want here?

.. More importantly, why did he look at her like that?


	2. Disparaged

On the night of her next, major match she is nearly rended.

The match had initially been one that she had been assigned to through. Something that she would make a show of for the Masters and those in the stand. Perhaps it would allow the falls the warrior that opposed her taken to be absolved.

So, Xy’ gave them their show. Efforts of a seasoned gladiator taken to dodge a great number of blows from the hefty, lumbering man-beast that had been her opponent. At least until he had been given weapons give him advantage, and she a mere enforced short blade.

For a time, the Qifil had his fun battering the woman... littering her with bumps and bruises, long cuts and scratches that would likely heel, but they stung all the same, bringing to the surface, dark nearly ink-blue blood..

At least until he allowed overconfidence to rule him and gave her the time to breathe, to look upon her masters. See their passive expressions as she awaited the permission to end this battle.

It'd not been the first, would not be the last, threatening the sanctity of her body, but it was that threat that brought her snarl. The time it took to break his right leg and sever his head from his shoulders took mere seconds. When confronted about the decision and outrage, she deposited the man’s head on the sands before the Overseeing stand.

A view of what was to come to those who threatened the Kobra’s livelihood.

As such, they saw punishment fit and the generous Ludus she served under did not speak as they brought out women of her kind. They were not their slaves after all.

“Princess!” “Qa’li!” _My Lady._ “Princess, please..!”

The Ka’tir women screamed, roughed and shaken by the guards handling them. They were the royal handmaidens serving other Masters. Still, Xy’mara felt fire burn in her chest.

Her brilliant, bright emerald eye widened as they spoke of consequence. They thought they'd break her spirit, but she bared her fangs and the rage roared that roared from her breast shook her Ludsi. Her Ludsi were sympathizers with her kind, they gave no dismissal of her passion for her kind and when she hauled herself up to the Overseeing, they were barely capable of saying much in the face of her threat.

Without a thought, she began to cleave arms from the guards that held those former serving girls, forcing them to unhand the Ka’tir women. Her blade spun, eviscerating innards and plating. Coppertone tendrils swayed as she shucked spears, breaking them in half to lodge them in the throats of her adversaries. Colors of lifeblood splattered across the cobblestone, leaving her standing in the wake of her massacre.

All that remained was the Master that ordered the deed itself.

The Katir Princess stalked forward, her chin lifting as she stalked forward, yanking her short sword free from the carcass she had left in her wake. Rotating her wrist, she stalked ready to pounce when the Authority came forward and seized her by her the electric chains.

Not once did she cry in pain, instead, she stared down the Master in question.

Only turning her gaze away, when the ka’tir that she had defended cried their praises for their forgotten princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye, we gettin' that goodie good next chapter. Hrk!


End file.
